


Starting Small (No Knives)

by Quitebrilliantindeed



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Ficlet, Friendship, Gen, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quitebrilliantindeed/pseuds/Quitebrilliantindeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Self-Effacement and How to End It. (Maybe.) A collection of drabbles, short stories, and poems revolving around Sumia, and the never-ending quest for self-confidence. Sumia + many, many characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sweet Tincture

“Hmmm…”

“Sumia?”

“Waahhhgh!” She jumped back with a start, her hands flinging the wooden bowl across the room with an unbridled fright that teemed with a well-tuned and often-used urge of fight-or-flight.  “D-don’t do that to me! You can’t just sneak up on people… like… that…”

The wyvern rider before her shook her head in dismay. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize you were… You’re cooking…?”

A flush crept across Sumia’s cheeks, and she turned away from Cherche, her curly locks inadvertently smacking the woman’s face. “What of it? It’s just a little hobby, nothing special…”

“Oh hush!” Cherche had now come up behind her, and had leaned her head over her shoulder to get a better view Sumia’s work. “Come now, I enjoy the art myself—cooking is always special, and you’d be a fool to argue otherwise!”

Sumia made a face, and tugged the chopping board away. “Says you! You’re actually… you know, good at these things…! Cooking is only special when you’re _good_ at it, and from what everyone has told me, I’m far from even being half-decent!”

Now it was Cherche’s turn to pull a face at her friend. “You are too stubborn sometimes, did you know that? Even if you aren’t good now, all it would take is a little practice…”

“Practice…?”

“Oh yes. If you’re willing, I would be happy to offer my assistance.” Her slim hand was upon Sumia’s shoulder now, steadfast and comforting to back up her words.

Sumia pulled back from the gesture so that she might leap a little into the air and let out a tiny yelp of excitement. “Oh yes! Yes please!” 

“Down girl, down!” Cherche laughed, waving her back to the floor. “You are more energetic than my Minerva—you’ll lose a finger like that!” Sumia’s face paled. “Oh—oh no, that was just a joke. Here, we’ll start small…As in, no knives…”


	2. Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she lay awake at night, in those precious few minutes before slept claimed her as its own, she would often come to the realization that everything in her life revolved without exception around her and her needs. She hated that.

Sometimes, Sumia feared she was a narcissist.

There wasn’t really a better way of describing it. When she lay awake at night, in those precious few minutes before slept claimed her as its own, she would often come to the realization that everything in her life revolved without exception around her and her needs. She hated that.

She always tried her best to be nice to everyone. Her parents taught her manners, as they do, and she applied them with an expertise that bordered on… well, going overboard. She had a particularly strong desire to make sure people were happy too—she liked to cook and bake for them (or at least attempt to cook and bake for them) or to turn conversations towards whatever it was that they liked, instead of what she wanted to talk about…

But why? Did she really care? Or did she just want people to like _her_? The more she thought about it, the more she feared that the latter was the correct answer. When she focused her conversations on the other participant, she always felt a little upset that she couldn’t talk about her own passions, and when she baked or wrote or painted for someone, it was always with the hope of gaining a little more love, a little more appreciation out of them—and if she was lucky, some verbal praise—some validation.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care at all about her friends though. To see Chrom cry at the loss of his sister, or Cordelia fall to her knees at the loss of hers… or even when Lissa fumed about her lack of “royal-grace” she honestly felt bad for them, and any love she gave them was certainly not just for her own benefit. Their happiness was just as important—if not more important—than her own.

So what was it then? For all her self-loathing, she had a lot of self-importance to match it... She wondered if maybe that was simply ‘human.’ Maybe everyone tended to put themselves first, but not without care for others, and on rare, rare occasions, with the right people and the right circumstances, they might break through that wall, and care about the world and others more than themselves. Like Emmeryn. Yes, just like her…

Usually, at the end of her nighttime ponderings, Sumia would reach this conclusion: that she was, in fact, quite normal with her so-called narcissism.

Yet somehow, she always managed to forget that comforting thought by the next morning, and the terrible process would start all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I wrote this, I came to a realization of my own-- these stories are good venting for my own emotions. Hm.  
>  "I am Sumia, Sumia is me." Hope you enjoyed this one!


	3. Comforts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On making sudden choices.

“Sometimes… sometimes I don’t think I’m sure that I did the right thing.” The gaze Sumia got in return was anything but understanding, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment. “I was so nervous about all of this… and then before I knew it, I was in the thick of it all with my lance up in the air! I was hardly sure when that even happened—when did I go from soothing a frightened pegasus to riding that same horse into _battle?_ It was only a day earlier that I had been fretting over lack of experience! What if I’m still not good enough—you know? What if this gets me killed… or one of you killed? I’m not sure if… if this is where I should be right now—If I’ve gotten ahead of myself. _”_

“Well…” Sumia gulped at the sense that she had overwhelmed the poor tactician with her words, and fought back the urge to unleash a torrent of apologies. “Well, you seem fine to me,” Her high-strung heart slipped down a few notches at the uncertainty and nonchalance of the statement. “No! No, no, no…” She put her arm gently around Sumia, apparently having read her face well-enough to understand what was going on. “It’s not what you think. I’m just… confused? Yes, confused is a good enough word for this. You saved countless lives in yesterday’s battle and in just about every skirmish we’ve encountered thus far. You’ve saved my own hide more times than I can even count…”

“Oh…” Sumia flushed, fingers tugging at her bangs in her timidity. “Oh no, I…”

The tactician let out a slow breath. For a sigh, it was surprisingly soothing to Sumia’s ears—she felt safe and welcomed with that low whistle next to her head, blowing her tiny flyaway hairs into a frenzy. “I understand—it’s not that easy.”

Sumia gave a pained giggle, her eyes slowly turning warm and wet. “It’s really not.”

“Then we’ll just keep on trying, right?” She squeezed her tighter until her cheek was pressed to the top of Sumia’s mousy-brown hair. “Until you feel as good about yourself as the rest of us feel about you. Okay?”  
Fearing the tears would come on in full if she dared to speak, Sumia simply nodded:

“Mmmh!”


	4. Natural/Unnatural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's nice to know there's nothing wrong with how you think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deeply regret that Say'ri doesn't have more support options. Alas!

Training sessions meant a clear mind, as far as Sumia was concerned. It meant she could put all her fears behind her and dive into the heat of the fray, turning her klutziness over into pure grace, as she gazed across the battlefield atop the majestic back of a pegasus. Sure—it might be hard to get to that zone. She may worry about all her woes, or find herself distracted and lost until she reached it, but as soon as she did, it was as crisp and cold as the river back home—refreshing to the touch, perfect and all-encompassing.

Until Say’ri. It all fell apart with Say’ri. With strong arms laced around her own and a warm bosom pressed to her back—it sent her heart into a panic. 

“I… I need your help with something.”

She had come to the princess with a somewhat desperate request—to learn the sword. Maybe it was an awful idea—to ask the royalty of a distant country to help her, but she couldn’t bear to be instructed by someone she knew well. The embarrassment! It would kill her to give all the Shepherds another thing to mumble and tease her about, however good-natured their intentions.

The princess had tilted her head, sending her curtain-like hair cascading down across her shoulders. “Why—if I may inquire? You are quite proficient in the lance, Miss Sumia. What draws you to the blade?”

Sumia’s fingers twiddled up a storm as her nerves heated up her face. “I need to be a better fighter,” She began, desperately trying not to stumble over her words. “I’m always getting cut down by axes… and my magic is honestly no good… so I figure, if I could learn how to use a sword…?!”  
Say’ri’s eyes were kind, if a little baffled, but she seemed to carry no objections. “I do not see any reason why I could not teach you a move or two.” She gave a curt nod. “Yes. It’s decided. Tomorrow at dawn, before we take our leave of this camp. Meet me at the training grounds?”

“Oh! Oh yes! That sounds wonderful!” Sumia cringed internally at her slip—she must’ve looked terrible dancing about in such enthusiasm. Alas, but there was little she could have done to stop it from pouring out onto Say’ri, leaving her to force herself to come to terms with it.

So at dawn, they met, just as planned. Sumia had hurriedly pointed to the farthest corner of the makeshift training field in an attempt to stay as far out of sight as possible. Say’ri complied, but not without questions:

“Why do you fear your friends?” She asked as they walked. “They surely mean you no harm.”

“Oh…” Sumia hummed, picking a petal off a wildflower in her hands. “Oh they’re just… they know how I am. They like to poke fun at it—I guess I just don’t want them to see me fail at yet another thing...” _Especially not Chrom._ Oh she could _not_ let Chrom see her fail! In a moment of weakness, she had almost asked him to tutor her, before remembering how cripplingly disabled she would be by his mere _presence_!

Say’ri shook her head, pulling Sumia back to the land of reality. “Miss Sumia, you mustn’t discredit yourself. You have much potential—what you lack in natural grace, you compensate for in luck, speed, and training.” Pink crept over her cheeks. Sumia walked faster.

Her flushed face should have served as a warning sign—it only got worse from there.

Sumia had a little seed buried in her chest. It had been there since she was a girl, playing in the gardens with the other village girls. Sometimes—not all the time—but every so often, a woman would make her heart beat in the same way it did for men. Suddenly, her chest would swell and her legs would twitch in a desire for gentle curves and rounded hips—for soft lashes and sweet voices and for all the charms she could not typically find in men.

So many people around her talked solely of the opposite sex—and thus, she kept the longings to herself, not knowing if it was a perverse desire to have. As long as no one knew, she could keep it safe, safe deep within her…

Then she was holding that sword, and Say’ri was behind her, with her warmth washing over her in gentle, steady waves…

The sensation reminded her just why she was so afraid. Her fingers grew sweaty and her heart leapt up to her throat, pounding through her skull again and again and again…She dropped the sword with a gasp, her feet giving away beneath her, sending her tumbling backward towards he ground.

“Oh!”

The thud of the earth never came, only the same strong arms and breast, now supporting her whole bodyweight instead of just guiding it, keeping her from falling all the way to the earth below.

“Miss! Are you well? Oh dear, you may be quite as clumsy as they say…” Sumia numbly felt the princess’s hand guide her gently back to her own two feet, and brushing out her dress where it had wrinkled. Sumia nodded stiffly.

“Y-yeah…” She mumbled, taking half a step backwards. Her heart still raced with that burst of desire, coloring her cheeks bright red and making her feet all the more unsteady.

“Sumia…?”

“Huh?!” She looked up to meet Say’ri concerned eyes. Her slender hand was out and touching Sumia’s armored shoulder. She couldn’t feel it, of course, yet the gesture still sent shivers down her arm.

“Miss Sumia…” She pursed her lips and raised her other hand to them, as if in thought. “Do you…do you bear feelings for women? As many girls might for men?”

Sumia was shocked—that she couldn’t deny, but she was rather proud at how well she managed to hold it together upon hearing those words. She didn’t stumble or run, nor panic or jump. She just stood there and creaked out a slow nod. “Sometimes…” She finally murmured, casting her gaze down in shame. “I feel for both men and women, your highness. Is that wrong…? I mean, is it natural? Or am I some sort of…?”

A little chuckle came from Say’ri and she slipped a hand under Sumia’s chin, propping it up with perfect fingers, gentle and caring, yet firm. “Dear… there is nothing wrong at all. To love is a gift, it matters not whom receives it.” Sumia looked to argue, but Say’ri’s hand has slid up from her chin to her blushing cheek, serving only to warm it further. “Do not feel shame, Miss Sumia. There is truly no need for such a tragedy.” Before Sumia could register the words spoken to her, Say’ri tipped forward to plant a single, chaste kiss upon her lips. It wasn’t romantic or sexual in the least, but instead, pure and comforting, like Say’ri was becoming as much a mentor to her in matters of love and emotion as she was to her in swordplay.

When she drew back, Sumia’s face was a full sunsrise-red, but her trembling had ceased, and her eyes were wide with simple understated delight. Say’ri took her hands into her own and gave them a squeeze.

“Come. You still wish to learn, yes?”

“Yes… yes, absolutely!” Sumia returned the gesture, and parting their fingers, reached for her fallen blade.


End file.
